


Dying in a Ditch

by SidaSidaEee



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Catboys & Catgirls, Eye Gouging, F/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidaSidaEee/pseuds/SidaSidaEee
Summary: A catgirl tortures a man to death. He had it coming.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Dying in a Ditch

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me in a dream.

Transcendence Biochemical Model 3 FAO, serial designation "Catherine 46," also known as "Lady," implicated in conspiracy to carry out terrorist attacks against law enforcement, civilian, and government targets. Suspect evaded capture during an NXPD raid, and the suspect's location is unkown at this time. The Transcendence Company has issued a recall on Catherine 46, authorizing destruction of the unit, and residents of the Next Generation Concept Annex are advised to shelter in place until further notice.

* * *

Even tied up and hamstrung, he flails awkwardly against the grimy pavement, trying in vain to escape.

"Hold still, you piece of shit," she growls into his ear. "Or I'll bite your fucking fingers off."

Whether he takes the threat to heart or just tries to take a moment to think, he relaxes long enough for the girl to get a grip on his hair, pull his head up from the floor, and take aim. The hammer hits just right of center with a wet crunch, slipping between his lips just enough to muffle his scream into a gurgling, spitting moan. He writhes wildly, spitting blood and teeth onto the pavement, but doesn't manage to escape the second blow, which leaves him gagging on the sharp hammer head wedged in his mouth. Whatever insults he tries to form are lost in the red stream pouring through his mangled, gaping lips.

The Lady reaches into his mouth with all the delicacy due a bag of potato chips and fishes for lost teeth with her soft fingers. She pulls one straggler from his gums almost effortlessly, then extends a claw to dig through the gaping roots around and pry a shard of enamel from the inside of his cheek. However much he squirms, her prey has nothing left to bite with, every attempt at even gumming her rewarded by the claw of the hammer digging deeper into the base of his tongue. She withdraws her hand with a slimy, bloody caress across his cheek, then twists and yanks the hammer from his mouth in one motion and slams his face to the ground. On the way up she gives him two more strokes of the hammer for good measure, emptying the sides of his jaws a bit more thoroughly.

"Eu fiufhy bifch!" he manages to shout between bouts of spitting and raspy moaning. "Uehm da copfs geheue eu'h dum! A'h ftrimg eu ub by dshe tael an'-"

And she brings the hammer down on his zip-tied hands, turning his rant into a wailing sob mid-sentence. The Lady calmly steps behind him to avoid the spray of blood to the sides as he shakes his head wildly and flips him onto his back with a couple of firm kicks to the ribs. His eyes are wild as he looks up at her, his face streaked and spattered red-black, his lower lip torn almost in two. He pushes blood through the ragged hole that was once his lips in desperate spurts as it fills his mouth, whimpering incoherently.

"Shut up. I haven't even gotten to the good part yet," snaps the Lady. She drops down to plant her knee on his sternum, making it list to the side of his broken ribs, and holds his head firmly to bring the hammer to his face, the claw hanging just above the bridge of his nose. "Give me your cutest wink, buddy," she coos, drawing it back, and when it comes back down the man's blink reflex doesn't save him. The square corner of the prying claw rips through his eyelid just as easily as it punctures the firm eye beneath, tearing a gash that spurts a thick drop of vitreous fluid across his cheek as the claw digs half an inch below the surface. She stops it halfway in and takes a moment to examine her work, wild-eyed.

"Well, that's a sight, ain't it." Her face slips to disgust for a few moments, hidden from the sobbing man below her by the tears flooding his remaining eye. He wails and moans, gurgling, and every motion his head makes under her clenching hand squeezes more fluid from his eye drop by drop, cold steel stirring his deflating cornea back and forth and her gripping claws etching lines into his forehead and scalp. She withdraws the hammer with painstaking deliberation, watching with a twisted fascination as the face in her grip loses just a bit more of its identity. Blood trickles in to fill the half-hollowed socket, but the Lady has already turned away. She pins down his bound hands with one footpaw and pivots on his chest, reaching to pull down his pants.

"How many 'talking animals,'" she hisses, emphasizing her last two words by pounding a fist against his groin, "in your words, did you rape in the police station? What lies did you tell them to get them to spread their legs for you?" She doesn't even try to pause to make sense of his muffled screams. "I wish I could rip your guts out through your dick, put them back, and do it over again for every single one of my sisters you've turned into toys for your friends. I wish I could skin you alive and wrap you back up to be used as a punching bag for the thousand lifetimes you've thrown to waste. I wish I could make you feel even the tiniest sliver of the pain you deserve for what you've done. Making sure whatever's left of you is the most shameful wreck I can manage is the least I can do."

The Lady pulls down his briefs with claws extended and doesn't hesitate for a second before bringing the hammer down on what she finds. She smiles in the dark as his body writhes beneath her with an inhuman, gurgling wail. She turns the hammer back and forth in her grasp, watching with detached interest as his genitals slowly lose their shape and the claw leaves its twin punctures in swift alternation. She takes only the man's labored breathing and choking cough from the edge of consciousness as a sign to stop.

"Just the tiniest fraction, Mister Prosecutor," she hisses, leaning down to his mangled face. "Just the tiniest fraction of the pain you've caused. You should fucking thank me. Thank me, you piece of shit," and she reaches down to grab his penis with her right hand, digging her claws down to the cuticle into the base of his shaft. "Thank me!"

This gets his attention enough to drag him from his stupor. He tries to headbutt the Lady's looming face, spitting half an almost-word through a mouthful of blood, but she draws back too fast for him, trading blows with a swift backhand from the hand still gripping the hammer.

"Just as well. I have one last thing to show you, then." She tightens her grip even further, pulling and twisting. His remaining eye goes wide, his ruined eyelid straining and fluttering to keep up. "If you love getting your dick wet so much, how about I make that the last thing you ever fucking see?"

It's only as his flesh begins to tear behind her claws that realization joins pain in the man's mangled expression. The Lady could swear she sees the moment the insults stop and the begging starts, and she grins wide, letting the streetlights on the road above glint off too-sharp teeth. She stares her prey down, relishing every twist of his face as his penis slowly tears free from his body, until there it is in her hand, dangling from her claw-tips in the sickly sodium glow. The man, to his credit, manages an actual scream, muffled though it is, and the Lady closes her eyes for a moment to listen to its brief echo off concrete and glass, all but lost in the distant rush of tires on pavement.

"Now watch closely, Mister Prosecutor. You've got about ten seconds. It'd be a waste to keep that eye closed the whole time." She adjusts her grasp and dangles the limp, bloody member, still warm, into her mouth, locking eyes with the man below her. She adjusts her grip on his face to place a finger and thumb on his eyelids, holding them apart, as she slowly, carefully bites down.

After a few measured bites, the Lady pulls the bulk of the mangled remains from her mouth and spits the rest into her prey's face. Blood, saliva, and shreds of erectile tissue spatter across his cheek and nose and into his desperately twitching eye. The Lady smiles again and brings the dangling string of half-chewed flesh down to his face.

"Like what you see?"

She doesn't wait for an answer before dropping it right into his eye, bringing her hand down thumb-first soon after. It takes her a few tries, ignoring his renewed screams, to make the second eye go the way of the first, but only once she feels her thumb sink to the back of his eye socket does she stand up and untie the rope holding up her tattered jeans.

"I was thinking from the start that it would be a waste just to kill you," she says as she kicks the pants off toward the canal, letting them tumble down the slope into the dark water. "At least I can give you the chance to do one good thing in your miserable fucking life."

She stands over him half-naked, watching his bloodied head whip back and forth as though decanting the blood from his eye sockets would by some miracle restore his sight. He still tries to speak, but no words come out. The Lady kneels down slowly, running her claws across his abdomen, and straddles the man's head just as her hand reaches the crushed remains of his testes.

"Ever done this before?" she growls, sitting down firmly on his split lips, "Or could you only ever get pussy at gunpoint?" She tightens her grip and smiles at his desperate squirming beneath her, his spitting blood between her legs. "I hope you're good, for your sake."

He takes the hint, and the Lady closes her eyes, losing herself in the sensation of his torn tongue lapping desperately against her. Any time her prey's pace flags she squeezes his bruised scrotum, or rakes her claws against the insides of his thighs, or brings down the hammer on his hips and crotch and gut again and again. The smell of blood soaking every inch of the man's dry-cleaned suit mixes in the air with his muffled screams and the Lady's moans of pleasure, and the red pool around them spreads slowly across the pavement. The blood, shimmering with sodium orange, finds its way to the brink of the canal and trickles down the slope to diffuse out into the water. With every new gouged scratch, the trickle flows wider and faster, the man's struggle grows weaker, the Lady moans with more passion, and in the end, the night is quiet again. The Lady lets out a deep breath and stands up.

She turns to the canal without so much as a glance back at the body, following the blood still flowing down the concrete to the water's edge. She pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it into the water, wading in after. She takes slow, measured steps, her legs still shaking, and disappears inch by inch into the black. A bloody corpse lies still on the embankment, and all down the drainage canal the only trace of the Lady is the silhouette of a cat-eared head bobbing on the water, floating with the current out to sea.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess horrible gory noncon is a pattern for me now, but I swear I have more 418 coming as soon as my desktop is fixed, and wholesome lesbian kink stuff with absolutely no blood *or* genital mutilation... Thanks for sharing in my anger at the completely fucked world we live in. Take care and stay safe.


End file.
